


A Potter, a Path, and a...

by Kantayra



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Animal Transformation, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Famous Wizard Harry Potter's morning walk is full of perils...of a bossy, blond sort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Potter, a Path, and a...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hd_seasons' September Prompt #11: "taking a pet out for a walk." Thanks to kallysten for proof-reading.

Harry Potter, the Man Who Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World, and Twice Vanquisher of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, began his walk in Godric’s Hollow every morning as soon as the sun was up, with a reluctant yawn. Everyone knew this, because it had been in one of _Witch Weekly_ ’s special exclusives, written by some witch who had nothing better to do with her time than sit outside Harry’s home and time his daily comings and goings.

That crisp, fall morning was no exception. The sky was overcast, the ground crackled with dried leaves, and Harry closed his door behind him with the customary yawn.

And, as usual, a fair number of fans and tourists were on hand to try to catch a look (or hopefully even an autograph) of Britain’s most famous wizard.

The first was a plump, middle-aged witch, who accosted Harry right as he was opening the front gate. “Mister Potter, my name’s Delia, and I’m your biggest fan, and—ahh!” her effusive gushing came to an abrupt end as she was head-butted right back out the gate by Harry’s dog. Harry smiled pleasantly enough at her, but hurried on his way while she was safely corralled away from him, making it more than clear that he didn’t appreciate the disturbance.

He reached the corner before a group of schoolgirls spotted him and started squealing and pulling out their cellphones and cameras. However, before they could snap so much as a picture, Harry’s faithful – or perhaps just very possessive – companion bounded right through them, knocking them all neatly off-balance in one fell swoop. By the time they’d recovered enough to get their cameras out again, Harry had rounded the corner and was gone.

Harry waved to one of the old, neighbor ladies, who was sweeping her front walk. She waved back but didn’t try to come any closer when a warning growl rumbled through Harry’s dog, who had just now rejoined him.

Harry led the way further down the street, past the entrance to a small park, and then turned at what seemed to be a wrought-iron fence. Sleeping on a bench there sat what looked to be a homeless man. Harry cleared his throat, and one of the man’s eyes cracked open.

“In you go, then,” he said, easily appraising Harry’s magic. He pulled back his leg so that Harry could step right _into_ the fence. The dog stood firmly between the gatekeeper and Harry the entire time, just in case.

Harry closed his eyes, as he still habitually did when crossing through magical barriers, and stepped through the metal. When his eyes opened once more, he blinked at the pristine forest path before him. An entire wood, hidden away from time, space, and Muggle destruction, stretched out in this magical dimension before them.

Harry reached down to scratch his dog behind the ears, and they set off down one of the forest paths together, feet crunching on the golden, falling leaves. Almost immediately they came upon another dog-walker, heading toward them; this forest connected to most of the wizarding neighborhoods in England, so there was no real way of knowing how far away the wizard had come.

He smiled brightly at Harry, and then his eyes widened when they landed upon Harry’s scar and glasses. The man’s mutt, meanwhile, made its way over to smell Harry’s dog’s butt.

Instantly, the enraged snarling returned, this time with a gnash of teeth and several vicious snaps. The man’s dog yelped and retreated behind him, and the man turned abruptly away from Harry and headed quickly in the other direction.

Harry glared down at his companion. “Bad boy.”

Harry’s dog’s tail wagged wildly.

With a sigh, Harry continued further along the path. The outer paths of this forest were the shorter ones and would take one back to the same point of entry after approximately half an hour of pleasant walking. The inner paths that led into the center of the forest, however, were long and winding and could take up hours of time, for the more avid hiker. None of this made any sort of geographical sense, of course, but the forest didn’t exist within the Muggle concept of space-time and was entirely Unplottable, so it could pick any form it liked, and who were wizards to complain?

Harry always started his way along the inner paths, not because he wanted to walk that much longer, but because those routes were always more private. In fact, Harry was fairly confident that once the forest-park opened up a path for one wizard, it was closed to any others who might disturb his introspection.

One path to the inner forest opened right as Harry approached. A young, blond wizard with an inordinately fit body that must have come from regular, long hikes, emerged from the wood. Harry’s cheeks flushed from a bit more than the cool morning air, and he stuttered a bit goofily when he said “hello” to the man.

The man gave Harry a lazy once-over and a slow, wicked smile…and then noticed that Harry’s faithful companion had lifted one leg up in the air and was taking careful aim.

The man leapt back just in time to avoid the arc of urine that landed right where his leg had been.

“Uh, s-sorry about that,” Harry stuttered more and herded his dog back away from the man.

The man gave him an annoyed look and stalked off toward the exit of the park.

Harry took the private path that had just been vacated. “Honestly, what’s wrong with you?” he berated his dog as they walked. “I don’t see what he did that merited _that_.”

Harry’s dog butted him in the back of the knee.

“Hey!” Harry protested and decided revenge was appropriate. “What, are you jealous because he was blond, fit, _and_ ten years younger?”

And with that, Harry’s own companion abruptly got very blond and fit, and taller and bipedal, to boot. “I’ll have you know,” a deliciously flushed and enraged Draco Malfoy informed him, “that I have been informed that I am quite the handsomest blond alive today, and perhaps even ever.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Only _you_ would bother to have a divination done about something like that.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “He was _ogling_ you. It was entirely inappropriate.”

“So, naturally, you decided to urinate on his leg.”

“I did no such thing!” Draco insisted. “Something so uncouth is entirely beneath a wizard of my fine breeding.”

“So _your animagus form_ decided to urinate on his leg,” Harry corrected. “Does that split the hairs finely enough for you?”

“Keep your split hairs away from me.” Draco, it seemed, was happy to remain in human form now that they had a path to themselves and fell into pace by Harry’s side. “And,” a hint of a snarl entered Draco’s voice, “he dared to look at what’s _mine_.”

Harry felt a little tingle run down his spine, and he didn’t think it was from the chill air. “And that was why you tried to bite that poor dog’s head off, too, no doubt,” he teased comfortably.

Draco shuddered dramatically. “Did you _see_ that thing? I’ve never beheld such a horrible hodgepodge of ill-begotten ancestors. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that hideous beast had a troll or two in its family tree.”

“Funny. I seem to recall you making similar claims about my heritage, yet you’ve let me… _sniff_.”

“Yes, well, that’s different.” Draco tried desperately to maintain his composure under the highly suggestive comment and failed miserably.

Harry laughed, loud and clear in the morning air. They came upon a bench along the side of the path, and Harry’s fingers slid between Draco’s and pulled him down so that they sat side by side. “I can’t take you anywhere,” Harry accused, “Poodle.”

Draco’s eyes widened in horror and smacked Harry in the shoulder. “You did _not_ just call me that!”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Harry teased. “You’re just a big, fluffy—”

“Don’t you _dare_!” Draco tried to growl, but it wasn’t particularly menacing in this form.

“ _Poodle_ ,” Harry said it again.

Draco shoved his shoulder hard this time, so that Harry fell off the end of the bench, still laughing.

“Maybe next time you transform, I’ll get you one of those frilly haircuts with the big, poufy balls of fur,” Harry snickered.

Draco’s lips curved into a thoroughly evil smirk. “I must say, I’m quite shocked. Here I thought that you would have wanted to have sex again at some point in your natural life.”

“Oh, come on,” Harry crawled back up onto the bench beside Draco.

“Humph.”

“I was just kidding.”

“Humph,” Draco repeated.

“You can’t be _that_ ashamed of it, since you always transfigure yourself for our morning walks,” Harry insisted.

“ _That_ is solely for discretion’s sake. Which, I might add, is a concept that seems entirely too complicated to pass through your thick skull. Also: Humph.”

Harry scooted closer along the bench until their thighs were pressed, hot and tight, together. “I’ll rub your belly tonight for as long as you want, to make it up to you.”

Draco considered him with steely gray eyes for long, tense minutes. “I suppose that is acceptable,” he finally conceded.

Harry slipped an arm around Draco’s shoulders and nuzzled his throat contentedly. “Mmm.”

Draco swatted at Harry in sudden alarm, “Propriety, Potter! _Really_ ,” and tried to move away.

“No one can see us here,” Harry countered.

“You don’t _know_ that,” Draco sniffed. “You merely suspect these paths are private. Which, I might remind you, is the sort of attitude that got your daily schedule posted in _Witch Weekly_ in the first place.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Harry snuggled back in. “Besides, you’re warm, and you always make me get out of bed too early in the morning, anyway.”

Draco gave Harry a disdainful look, but he didn’t pull away. “Honestly, I don’t know where you’d be without me to handle your press.”

“Probably with a lot less ‘mad poodle’ complaints.”

“You did not just say that,” Draco informed Harry primly.

“Oh, yes, I did.”

“No, you did not. Because, ideally, _I’d_ prefer to have sex again at some point in _my_ natural life, and such a statement would preclude that.”

“Well,” Harry smiled languidly at him, “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Of course not,” Draco agreed. “And?”

“And I promise to rub your belly tonight—”

“You already promised that,” Draco reminded him.

“Oh,” Harry frowned, “right. Well, then, I’ll do that thing with my tongue and the…y’know.” Harry’s hands made several unusual gestures, simulating the act.

Draco’s cheeks flushed. “You mean, that thing where your tongue does its…thing?”

Harry was proud to learn that he could still addle Draco to the point of losing his vocabulary like that. “Yeah. _That_ thing.”

“Apology accepted.” Draco rose to his feet. “Now, are we going to enjoy our constitutional, or are you going to try to molest me on this bench all morning?”

Harry opened his mouth—

“Do _not_ answer that,” Draco ordered and strode off down the path once more. After a few paces, he returned to his animagus form, and Harry tried not to snicker _too_ much at the swishes of Draco’s puffy, white tail as it wagged its way down the autumn path before them.


End file.
